100
by M.F.D
Summary: A series of 100 word drabbles focusing on various characters. Slash and het. Multiple pairings. Requests and prompts accepted through PM or review. Will update every so often.


Disclaimer: Moorish owns nothing. Final Fantasy VII belongs to Square Enix.

(The chocobo harness is mine, though. And the cake.)

Bruises

The General does not bruise easily. Whether it is because of the mako injections or some other, more mysterious factor, the fact remains that Sephiroth has remarkably tough skin. Fists do not work. Nor do chains, crowbars, tire irons, and any number of other blunt objects.

What really burns him up though is that neither does kissing, sucking, clawing, or even biting. He can spend an hour working at the pale column of his lover's neck and have little more than a shiny, spit-slick patch of skin for his trouble.

For Cloud, however, it is not for lack of trying.

Bottles

"You're drunk." Rude's voice sounds accusing, even to his own ears, and he winces in preparation of the tirade to come.

It never comes. Reno stares moodily at his bottle of beer. He looks as if he is trying to commune with it. Whatever he's saying, though, the beer isn't responding.

"Reno? Partner?"

Reno's drunk-wide eyes hone in on Rude like blue lasers. And suddenly his mouth feels like cotton, like it's him that's been drinking.

"Reno, it's time to go-"

The sentence would have taken four seconds, at most. Reno's mouth is latched to his in half that.

Power

His bedroom is done in shades of crème and palest nothing. The bed is equally as white, and Rufus has to admit that, when Reno is silent and still at last, there is something strange and beautiful about the Turk, about that fall of bloody red across the void of his sheets. It seems to emphasize the smallness of the body to which it belongs. Reno's eyes flutter in sleep and Rufus' lips skin back in a shark's grin.

There is something about the color white that screams 'power.' And, if for nothing else, Rufus is a sucker for power.

Rough Sex

They fuck.

It's nothing simple or delicate, like 'sleeping together' or, Gaia forbid, '_making love_.' It's hot and sweaty and downright filthy sometimes. It's some of the kinkiest shit he's ever done. But he's disappointed, now, if a night goes by without blood and come mixing on his chest.

Sometimes Cloud remembers a better time, before he had to put his first lover in the ground, not just once but twice. But he tries not to dwell too long on memories; here, now, in the dark hours of the night, is the only time he feels alive enough to forget.

Birthday Boy

"Happy birthday, Spiky!"

The present is gaily wrapped. The wrapping paper is bright red, covered with parading mogs wearing cotton-bobbled Santa hats. Cloud briefly contemplates why Zack has Christmas paper in the first place (the man doesn't need an excuse to drink, but he still doesn't seem to celebrate _anything _during the year), and then tears open the gift with a bemused little grin.

A grin whose corners quickly start to head south.

Moments later the barracks are filled with sharp growls and manly whoops of excitement. The chocobo bit and harness lay forgotten amidst the shreds of red paper.

Tan

Zack is tan.

He is the smooth, all-over gold of the Costa del Sol beaches that Cloud has heard of, but never seen. The tan is utterly, completely even, and for a moment he wonders if Zack lies outside naked when he is sure no one is watching, but the idea wavers, and Cloud decides that it's not worth thinking about. Cloud, after all, will never have skin like that, skin bright and golden like living summer.

Because Cloud never tans. He can lie in the sun 'til death do them part, but all he will ever do is burn.

Have Your Cake

Sephiroth's birthday is a mystery to most of ShinRa. It's the only day of the year when the General isolates himself completely from his troops. Cloud knows, now, that it is because this day, that is supposed to be so happy, brings up bad memories for his older lover. Zack assures him that this year they will make things right. It will be a celebration, just the three of them.

"Zack, I don't think this…"

"Aw, c'mon Cloud!"

It's not so much the idea that bothers him. Cloud just wishes he didn't have to jump out of the cake naked.

And Eat It, Too

Zack and Cloud may be his lovers, but they are also his SOLDIERs. They are in a unique position, one that allows them to see both the General and the man, and it is that which gives them such insight into the way he thinks. So when Zack wheels the (huge, gaudy, obviously fake) cake into his office, Sephiroth is half convinced that his lieutenant has gone mad.

But then Cloud, shy and bashful Cloud, steps out of the plastic monstrosity with his lean torso crisscrossed with ribbons, and Sephiroth smiles and cannot remember why he was so unhappy before.

Birds of a Feather

It's no wonder that they fell in together. After Meteor, after the Advent, everything was different, and many were left without stable ground to cling to.

Yuffie doesn't think of it like that. They aren't just bodies, gravitating towards each other in the dark. There is something in the Turk, something solemn and precious that reminds her of home. Even if he's never lived in Wutai for more than a few weeks, and even if he's not full-blooded, she still looks at him and sees bits of herself.

More than idly, she wonders if Tseng would mind being a prince.

06/21/08 update - Aha! Some het! I said there would be het, and finally there's het! And now we return to your previously scheduled S/C/Z sandwich cooking hour.


End file.
